Two years ago, I woke in the middle of the night with an urge to pray for my daughter’s safety. She was planning her first solo road trip to Chicago in two days. I prayed myself back to sleep that night.

She’s legally an adult, and I couldn’t tell her not to make the trip. Instead, we worked to make sure her trip was well planned. I still felt that urge to pray for her trip.

The morning of her trip, we insisted she keep us updated during the 6 hour road trip on where she was. I was at work that day and quietly prayed for her. I posted on Facebook I was praying for her safety.

When she updated me early afternoon that she was halfway there, I breathed a sigh of relief. One of my coworkers told me I needed to let go and quit hovering.

Within minutes, I got the call. She was in a bad wreck with a car and a truck. She had just pulled out of a gas station and got t-boned. I could hear sirens in the background. She said she was fine.

Other than a scratched knee, she was unharmed. Her car was totaled. When we got there that night, they let us into the car lot where the car had been towed so we could empty it. Most of the front was gone.

I can only think that my prayers were an urging from both her guardian angel and my own to pray for her.

Never underestimate those unexpected urgings to pray for someone. A friend told me afterwards when she saw my first post praying for my daughter’s safety she thought I was being overly protective.

As we returned to the scene after the fact, we saw that it had a blind spot and a low speed limit which the driver on the road had to have ignored. I read of multiple accident reports in that intersection, as the community debated whether or not it needed a stoplight to prevent future accidents.

Why does it seem that some prayers for someone’s safety are answered and in another instance they aren’t?

I do not know why good people are sometimes protected and other times they still get sick, get hurt, or die. But I wonder if divine protection comes when someone’s purpose in life has not yet been met, and God still has work for that person to do.

And maybe, when the good do die young, they have already accomplished that mission and have touched the hearts and lives of others, leaving the world a better, richer place because of their presence.

I don’t know. I do know that for the rest of my life, I will pray when the Spirit says pray.

Why did I get a brick for Christmas this year? Strap in for the long version of the story. That brick was there when my journey as a mother began.

But wait – there’s more.

In 1993, I was working for a local law firm when their network administrator quit. I inherited his job to add to my other responsibilities. As I learned to manage a computer network, we added some wrinkles to the job. The firm was moving, and the move was prime time to upgrade our network. So what did we plan to do at the same time the office moved?

Fire our computer vendors and find a replacement company.

Upgrade all 25 support staff members from Dos to Windows. Train them on how to use a mouse.

Set all 20 attorneys up with PC’s on the network.

Migrate from 2 file servers to 1.

Migrate from paper phone messages to emailed ones.

Make sure the attorneys, some of whom hadn’t operated a PC before, could get their phone messages on the new system.

We moved over Halloween weekend. The offices closed at noon on Friday. Our goal was to have the new network in place and operational at noon on Sunday, ready to go for work on Monday morning.

Our PC team and I worked to meet the deadline. I slurped Mountain Dew in giant cups to stay alert as we climbed, crawled, and made sure things worked. That Saturday night, I tied my copy of our new office key to my shoe lace because I was so tired and slap happy I was afraid I would lose it. At 2 a.m. Sunday morning, all was well.

Things were a little crazy when the office opened, but we worked through it, and my goal was met. I continued working late fixing bugs and by Wednesday evening, I had lost my voice and was sick – since my throat hurt, I knew I had strep throat. I went to a new convenient care center – St. Mary’s off the Expressway to get antibiotics.

As I sat in the waiting room, a woman rushed in yelling, “Do you take gunshot wounds?”

The nurse at the desk told her, “Go to the emergency room.”

When my turn came, I told my doctor, “I have strep throat. Give me a strep screen and antibiotics, and I’ll go home and go to bed.”

The doctor ordered the strep screen and asked, “Do you think you could be pregnant?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think so,” I answered. We had just lost our first baby that May, it was too early for me to be pregnant again, and that was the last thing on my mind.

He ordered a pregnancy test too. As I waited for the results, I heard nurses whispering outside – I was sure they were talking about another patient. “Will you tell her?” “No. You tell her.” And finally I heard, “Let’s wait for the doctor to tell her.”

The doctor came in and told me, “You don’t have strep throat. But you are pregnant. And exhausted. And you need to go home and go to bed and stay there for 2 days.”

I called my boss and told him, and he replied, “Well, I guess you went home from work early at least one night this fall.”

Flash forward to this January. St. Mary’s was opening a new care center just behind that convenient care where I found out I was becoming a mother. I was invited to participate in a sneak peek “Tweet Tour” before it opened. As we toured the new center, I told the story of my learning I was pregnant.

When I asked what was going to happen to the old center, I off-handedly commented I would love one of the bricks from the old convenient care center where I found out I was pregnant.

Now flash forward to Christmas morning. As I opened this heavy gift, I saw a brick in the box. It puzzled me. Then I read the caption on it. It’s that brick I said I wished I had.

My family told me the back story. One of St. Mary’s marketing team tracked down my daughter (the one I was pregnant with at the time) and told her they had a brick I wanted. She’s a junior in college out of state, so she forwarded the message to my husband. He picked up the brick, and they kept it a secret until Christmas Day.

Not to be outdone with unusual gifts, my daughter gave me a hen ice cube tray. It makes egg-shaped ice cubes. I love chickens, and she thought I would enjoy egg ice cubes since we no longer keep hens in our backyard.

My son, born after that night’s adventure, made a bobble Groot with a 3-D printer, printing the parts, assembling it and painting it for me.

The wise men may have brought baby Jesus gold, frankincense, and myrrh. This year, I got a special brick, a hen ice cube tray, and a bobble Groot.

And those gifts are just as precious to me because they remind me of the greatest gifts of my life – my family – and the adventures we have had together. They aren’t clean, neat, or perfect. But they are real, and they are mine.

In the painting of Rembrandt’s student, The Adoration of the Shepherds, in the National Gallery in London, we see more of the Christmas nativity story than we realize. Darkness surrounds all those in the picture. Until we get to the light surrounding the Nativity scene.

Shepherds, straight from the fields are there with Jesus, Mary and Joseph.

There is a lantern someone tried to use to bring light to the darkness. But that light fades in comparison to that of the Christ Child.

So many of us live in worlds with darkness. They are worlds where we have been blindsided more times than we can count by disappointment and betrayal. Bad things happen. Things that aren’t fair happen. Those things hurt us, and we carry battle scars from lost battles. If I had only known the darkness, the pain, and the scars, I don’t think I could have born it.

When we, like the shepherds, open our eyes and see the Christ Child, there is a light that shines. It shows us with our flaws. Our faults and failings. And those painful scars.

The scars may remain, but with the light of Christ they are transformed into something beautiful.

I have lived my own verse of this story. As I told someone last night, the important part is that Jesus Christ took those scars, and transformed me by using them. He does make beauty from ashes.

The sorrows of the first verses of my life are now augmented by a refrain of alleluias of thanksgiving to Jesus.

This week, as we sing Oh Come, O Come Emmanuel, I invite you to gaze into the light of the Christ Child and listen to Him, so that you too can join the refrain of glorias that change everything.

Don’t get so taken with a world of darkness and pain that you miss the light of Christ.

Ever since we became empty nesters, I’ve needed daily Mass. Each morning when I go in, I start with prayers and commend our children to God, much like Hannah did with Samuel. As I look to the front of the sanctuary and see the crucifix hanging from the baldachin of our Cathedral, I imagine that I see Jesus on the cross at calvary, and I leave my cares and concerns on that hill.

And I remind myself each day that I cannot return and pick them up because that would be like telling Jesus He can’t do the job.

Probably 60 people attend each morning, and I’ve grown to know some of them. Many are retired. As I leave, and several stay and are praying the Apostles Creed, I draw comfort for these noble souls who probably don’t know they are becoming surrogate parents to me.

Each morning, as I leave, a 93-year-old veteran of World War II nods at me and waves as he prays. He is still fighting for his faith and his nation now, just like he did then.

And I’m glad I have him on my side. There is a great crowd of witnesses praying for us, here and in heaven.

2. Tree Trimming

During Advent, I’ve watched the slow process of preparing the cathedral for Christmas.

It started with a few bare trees. Then more were added. Up front, wooden boxes were stacked, and then covered.

Now the trees are decorated, and there are angels above animals and shepherds in what will soon be a Nativity scene.

When we prepare a Christmas tree, we probably trim some decayed branches, making more room for the good ones – like the master in the vineyard.

3. Family Trees

At yesterday’s Mass, our gospel reading was the genealogy of Jesus. As the priest read it, I remembered the years our family worked through reading the Bible aloud together. I recognized most of the names and remembered reading the same passage to my children.

After he finished reading, the priest noted there were some good people in that family tree and some not so good people. But the point is they were all used as part of God’s plan in bringing a savior to the world. And He will use us too.

I cried silently as I reflected on the past year and my own family tree. For most of my life, I’ve thought there was more bad than good. But this year, I learned there was more good than bad, but I hadn’t known of most of the good. With that gospel reading and the quick message afterwards, I better understood that my own struggles with my family tree are part of God’s plan, and all I need to do is trust.

My family tree, my story, is a work in progress much like the Christmas decorations. Gradually, adding a little at a time, it becomes a beautiful tapestry. Encouraged by that thought, I left Mass as those who stayed continued to pray.

With the prayers of the great cloud of witnesses, both here as the Church Militant and in heaven as the Church Triumphant, I have the support of a bigger extended family than I could ever have imagined.

Whatever condition we are in or tree we are born into, God can take us and make us beautiful.

If you doubt that, then just remember that Christmas tree in Charlie Brown.

Tomorrow is the 2-year anniversary of my surviving a heart attack. As the Advent season progresses, I feel an immense thankfulness that God gave me another year.

A friend told me soon afterwards, “Your life just changed forever.” I had no idea how right she was. I also had no idea that the lifestyle changes I adopted would transform my life so that beyond surviving a heart attack, I’m thriving.

What changes did I make?

Diet. Yes, I fall off the wagon, need to lose weight, and could do a better job. Even so, our diet has permanently changed. When a dietitian talked with me after the heart attack, she told me that if we ate a pound of bacon a week as a family, it was a regular part of our diet and had to stop. Now, the regular parts of our diet include each week we eat a package of baby spinach or kale, a container of hummus, egg whites for breakfast, flax whole grain wraps for my lunch sandwiches, and whole grain sandwich thins for my breakfast sandwich. Cheese used to be a staple – now it’s a treat and when we do use it I use less and use lower fat varieties. I still work to get the 5 a day fruits and vegetables. We eat more whole foods and fewer processed ones. I used to buy giant tubs of margarine. Now, we use a small container of the lower fat butter blends, using one of those in the same amount of time it used to take me to use the giant tubs. I never buy margarine or butter sticks. The kale or spinach are parts of my daily breakfast and lunch. I’ve learned to re-invent family favorite dishes to make them healthier. I started buying our meat from a local butcher shop that I know doesn’t add water or salt to meat and works with me for lower fat cuts of meat. Now, when I eat fatty foods of years past, I feel awful and recognize that they make me feel sluggish. Yes, I sometimes enjoy my biscuits and gravy or fried chicken. But they are rare instead of regular menu items now. Before, fried chicken was my go-to food when I was too busy to cook. Now it’s a rare treat.

Exercise. Before the heart attack, I did not exercise. When I went up or downstairs, I felt out of breath. I took the suggestions of fitness experts I had interviewed for a healthier lifestyle article I wrote and followed them. Exercise is now scheduled. Most work mornings, unless I’m tired, I start my day with a big glass of water followed by half an hour on an exercise bike. Most lunch hours each week include a half hour of walking. I wear a pedometer to monitor my steps. Though some days I slack, there are at least a few days each week I hit the 10,000 steps per day. The number of steps I walk in that half hour has increased. Though I could do a better job, I no longer have any issues with stairs. My energy level often feels like it did 20 years ago. An unexpected perk of that higher energy level is more creativity and fun. When you feel good, it’s easier to laugh. I read studies that say that exercise improves brain function, and I agree. My heart rate and blood pressure are lower now than they have been in years. The medications I am on now for blood presssure are a fraction of the amounts I was on pre heart attack, with doses at the minimum levels possible.

My Circle of Friends, Family, and Activities. With diet and exercise, I learned to cut the bad stuff like fatty foods and sitting all the time and add more good stuff – like whole foods and exercise. There were certain parts of my life that were stressful, filled with conflict, and made me unhappy. One at a time, I removed those stressors from my life and world. Until they were gone, I had no idea how much energy and happiness they sapped from me. Though some causes are noble and worthy, when they cease being fun, it’s time to move on to new challenges. Removing things and people from my life isn’t always a judgment against them as it is a recognition that my personality and skills are not a good fit to mesh with theirs. Never underestimate the power of finding the right fit for your world and friends. Surrounding yourself with positive people who appreciate you and others and who encourage you to grow is as transformational to my life as exercise and diet changes were.

In the same time frame, Richard and I have adjusted to having an empty nest and our role as parents of college students. I went back to work for the first time in 20 years and started a new career. I feel blessed to work for a company I love that lives by its core values of teamwork, integrity, and excellence. Never in my life have I worked with such a good team of supportive people who have become my extended family.

Community service is and will continue to be a large part of my life. Those who know me know I go in whole heart and soul to work for causes in which I believe. I am working to learn to pace myself and set boundaries. I removed some activities from my plate. At the same time, I’ve added others. At church, our parish has merged with another. As two cultures become one and people learn to work with new people in a new, larger parish, I can share my time and talents. As I watch this merger take root, I see many new opportunities for spiritual growth and evangelization.

Two years ago, as the cardiologist put the stent into my heart and I was awake on the operating table when my heart rate dropped to 20, I did not know if I would live to see my husband and kids again. I did get to see them again and appreciate them now more than ever.

Little did I know that that day would transform my whole world. My biggest life regret is that when my kids were growing up, they saw more of the stressed mom struggling to survive than the happier, kinder, and gentler one who has more fun that I am today.

With a happier and healthier heart, mind, and body, I see a world of hope and new opportunities.

God wasn’t done with me, and I know I’m still a work in progress. The best is yet to come.

My ancestors did not come over on the Mayflower in 1620. However, some of them arrived later.

Robert Shelley arrived in Boston in 1632, and Judith Garnet arrived in 1634, as did Dolar Davis. John Cary came to Masachusetts in 1634 as well – he was the first Latin teacher in Plymouth colony and served as the first constable and then town clerk of Bridgewater. Some stories say that he taught William Brewster Hebrew. Robert Linnell arrived in 1639. Many were among the first families in Barnstable, Massachusetts.

On paper, that sounds very respectable. But there is more to the story. Judith Garnet was excommunicated from the Pilgrims. Why? It was written about her that she was “proud, tenacious of her own opinions, and had very little control over her tongue, which ran like a whip-saw, cutting everything it came in contact with.” She got mad when a group of women in the church held a private meeting, and she wasn’t invited. So she told them what she thought. And she got kicked out because of it. It was then written, “it was the standing topic of conversation for six months.”

And it got more colorful after that. Her daughter Hannah at age 16 fell in love with a 25 year old David Linnell. They got too close for comfort and were publicly whipped. The next year, they got married. David didn’t rejoin the church until the end of his life, and Hannah never did.

The migration continued. William Durkee was probably the first Irishman who settled in Massachusetts Bay Colony. When the Irish lost to Oliver Cromwell, Durkee was taken away and spent years as a slave in Barbados sugar plantations. Then he was released when Charles II came to power and indentured himself to Thomas Bishop to come to America. As a Catholic, Durkee had a hard time in the Pilgrim colony. He was fined for not attending church, and Bishop paid his fine.

Durkee fell in love with a girl named Martha Cross, who got pregnant. Her family didn’t want her to marry a poor servant. He was taken to court and they asked how he would support his wife. He told them his salary was 18 meals per week, and he would share them with her. Durkee was sentenced to 20 lashes for fornication. The resolution was that they got married, and their first child was born 2 weeks later.

Because Durkee was Catholic and would not renounce his faith, he could not own land. Still, he and Martha struggled together and had a large family.

Cary originally came to America because he was studying in Europe when his father died. His brothers got the land and left Cary with only 100 pounds of a large fortune. With nothing to lose, he came to America to build a new life for himself. In 1639, he was among the settlers who negotiated for land purchases with Massasoit. He and his wife had 12 children. In his mother’s final will in England, she willed him a single shilling – if he were still alive.

In these stories, I see glimmers of myself. Thirty years ago, I was told that with my mouth had I lived in Salem, I would have been burned as a witch. It turns out my ancestors weren’t burned. But they were flogged and excommunicated from the Pilgrims. I also see my love of Latin and culture in this story.

My point with this is most of our struggles are not new. Our ancestors and families have fought and struggled. They had their hearts broken and made their mistakes. They were dealt lousy hands and made the best of them. Sometimes they had to start a new life, which they did.

We can do the same. We can choose to blame injustices and bad experiences for our failures. Or we can recognize them as the things that toughened us and motivated us for the real American dream – to build a better tomorrow.

Little did I know when I took my kids to their first 4-H meeting 11 years ago how it would change our lives.

The leader walked in with a box of small pumpkins. He pulled a pumpkin out of the box and told a story. The pumpkin had a single bad spot on the back. “The pumpkin could spend its time focused on this bad spot and worrying about its flaws. If it does it misses the point that if you see the other side, you see a pumpkin that’s round and fun and makes people smile.” He had raised the pumpkins in his garden. Then he gave the kids a pumpkin to take home.

Over time, Dan, that 4-H Leader, became one of the closest friends of my family. He took my kids to heart like he did all the kids in his club, cheering their victories and encouraging their talents. When my son decided he wanted to learn to grow pumpkins as a 4-H project, Dan agreed to let him grow them in his pumpkin patch. He taught Nick how to start them from seed transplant them, and then care for them. Their pumpkin plants became an annual tradition. Each year, they tried different varieties. When the harvest was good, like the year they harvested a truckload, Nick shared pumpkins with all his friends. In lean years, they struggled to find one ready to show at the county and state fairs. Each year, they tried again. Several of Nick’s pumpkins won special merits at the State Fair.

Dan encouraged members of his 4-H Club to participate in speech and demonstration contests, both at the county and state levels. Often, when his club members competed at state speech and demonstration contests, Dan went to support them. In the 20 years Dan has been head leader of his 4-H Club, 5 members won State Fair Demonstration Contests and won trips to Washington, D.C. Yes, I’m biased – my kids were 2 of those 5. With his encouragement, my daughter won a spot as 1 of 2 Indiana delegates to the National 4-H Conference in Washington, D.C., and my son won a spot as 1 of 9 Indiana delegates to the National 4-H Congress in Atlanta. His vision broadened my children’s worlds.

Dan’s influence on our family extended beyond pumpkins. He recruited me to become a 4-H Leader and encouraged me to get more involved with our county’s 4-H Leaders and 4-H Council. When our county needed a new computer project superintendent, Dan encouraged me to take it on, and his mother (also a 4-H Leader) showed me how to do the job.

When my daughter broadened her 4-H experiences to include animals, Dan was there. During high school, she exhibited both chickens and llamas, and Dan was always willing to buy her animals at our fair’s premium auction.

As Nick got involved with robotics contests in our area, Dan encouraged me when I decided to start a county robotics project. That expanded into my starting a new club, and Dan again encouraged me to take the leap that became our 4-H Tech Club. Tech Club opened 4-H opportunities to a whole new audience, and Dan used his experiences to mentor me with my new club. I worked to replicate his standards for excellence and desire for diversity and inclusion. Dan had served 2 terms on the National 4-H Leadership Trust and shared their vision with me to help raise the standards in my own club.

Dan became the older brother I never had – the kind who could be completely trusted. He saw me at my worst but inspired me to be my best. I could count on Dan to give me his honest opinion in each situation, which sometimes meant we disagreed. He had no problem telling me no when he thought it was what I needed to hear.

Nick’s Confirmation

My kids also knew Dan could be trusted – when Nick went through Confirmation, he chose Dan as his sponsor. At the time, Nick told me Dan would make a good sponsor because he lived his faith and always did the right thing. Dan was more than a 4-H Leader; he worked as a local prosecutor for the past 24 years, as the director of drug law enforcement in Vanderburgh County and then as the Chief Deputy Prosecutor of Warrick County.

Dan gave his time to multiple non-profits, including serving as the President of our diocesan St. Vincent de Paul Conference that works to help the poor. His legal expertise helped multiple nonprofits, including our 4-H program and multiple Catholic organizations. In my own community service leadership, Dan helped me whenever needed.

Dan is among that handful of trusted friends I have who are family. During our challenges the past 11 years, including keeping our business viable during the 2008 downturn, recovering from my heart attack, or helping me with legal situations, he was there when needed.

And now times change. The Indiana Prosecuting Attorney’s Council hired Dan as their drug resource prosecutor. He will be moving to Indianapolis to start his new job and a new chapter in his life. So he’s moving when we’re all decorating with pumpkins.

Smiley Face Pumpkin

Nick displayed his final pumpkin at this year’s fair. He snagged one of my Sharpies and drew a big smiley face on it. I asked him why, and he said that smiley faces make people smile, and he wanted people to smile when they went through the vegetable exhibits.

Anyone who knows my son knows he shares his humor and always finds ways to make life more fun for those around him.

The take-away? When Dan brought that box of pumpkins to a meeting 11 years ago, he was doing with pumpkins what Johnny Appleseed once did. He planted seeds in the youth of his club, as well as countless other organizations. Those seeds have and will spring forth to bear fruit – good fruit – that already do and will continue to make the world a better place.

Beware the carousel trap of hate and anger. It’s like an amusement park ride where you choose your horse, go up and down peaks and valleys, and hope that things will get better when you go around the next turn.

The problem is the carousel horse simply goes in a circle. As the music repeats itself, we ride up, and down, and up again, and sometimes get so preoccupied with the ups and downs that we fail to recognize we’re just going in a circle with no chance of betting out of the trap.

Life in a fallen world can be hard. We can be lied about, betrayed, hurt, shunned, or worse.

I have a lifetime of experience of the above and know how easy it is to respond first with anger and hurt. It’s important to feel and acknowledge the pain. When we are on the receiving end of those bad things, we can slip into self-pity and sometimes feel like what we are going through is unexplored territory in the history of humankind.

Wrong. People have done bad things to each other ever since Cain and Abel. Once we realize that, it makes forgiveness easier.

When we forgive those who did terrible things to us, we do not free the perpetrators from accountability. Forgiving does not mean we open ourselves to continued abuse. Sometimes, the only course we can take is to permanently remove ourselves from an abusive situation.

What do we do instead?

When we forgive those who are evil, we give ourselves the freedom to heal. And with the healing come opportunities to build something new.

In other words, there comes a time when the smartest thing we can do is say, “Stop the carousel. I want to get off.”

When we do, perhaps one day we will find a real horse and ride it into new adventures.

We must forgive in order to live. And when we do, we will discover that faith is possible in a fallen world.

I am still learning to ride off into the sunset. But as I learn, I’ve discovered the huge difference between a wooden carousel horse of hate and the real thing of joy, love, and learning.

A lifetime ago, I sat at Gugin’s Bench – before it was formally dedicated at the University of Evansville this year.

What did that mean? I was a headstrong kid sometimes living on more chutzpah than money, who could do as well in school as I did badly in life. But no matter how I messed up my personal life or made stupid choices, I could go sit at Gugin’s Bench.

Gugin would sit there, ask me penetrating questions, and bark at me. No matter how hard he barked at my choices and me, I trusted Dr. Gugin completely and knew he had my best interests at heart. He saw potential in me and encouraged it.

I was not alone. Lots of other diamonds in the rough – kids with battle wounds and scars – also sat at Gugin’s Bench. Both local and international students flocked to that bench.

Gugin saw our vulnerabilities but built up our strengths – almost like a real life Professor X in the X Men. I learned more sitting on that bench than I did in most classrooms.

Two funny stories about Gugin – when my husband met him, Gugin privately talked to him – “She’s special and if you mess with her, you’ll answer to me.” (For a girl without a Dad, I truly appreciate that.)

The other is when I took time off my career to raise my kids. I drove by that same bench as I took my kids to violin lessons and Gugin would bark at me, “When the hell will you get a job and start your career?”

I barked back at him, “These kids are my job.” He told me he knew that, and we would both laugh.

What life lesson did I learn from him?

Inclusion is powerful. When we seek and work with people from different places, with experiences and cultures different from our own, we all gain in the long run.

One professor, sitting on a bench, on a circular drive in the middle of a college campus became a magnet for many. I took what I learned at that bench and have used it to impact other people in my world.

We will always grow more with different people who challenge us than if we sit comfortably in a rut full of people who live and look just like we do.

Over the years, I’ve met others who sat at Gugin’s Bench. We then have an instant bond of what we gained while sitting there.

And I wonder, as we have paid what we gained forward, will we create our own benches, and where will they be.

Bret Harte once wrote a tragic tale of what happened to “The Outcasts of Poker Flat.” What they experience is familiar to anyone who didn’t quite fit in the mold in high school.

Often in teen-aged cliques (especially those with girls), those who are part of the “in” crowd have set rules for what they can and cannot do, speak to, or wear. If someone in the clique dares to venture an independent thought, the clique shuns the outsider, circles the wagons, and then self-congratulates in the inner circle that they kept their tribe clean and intact.

And that’s rough for the girl who doesn’t fit in that crowd – or other crowds either.

I wish I could tell the girls in that position that they have a unique opportunity. They can mingle and get to know a diverse range of people. The more different people they meet, the more creative ideas they will encounter. They will experience different cultures, see unique ways to solve problems and will learn the first rule of true leadership:

Finding that spark of genius or excitement in everyone you meet and finding ways for those you meet to work together to create something new and wonderful.

When you meet those different people, you’ll discover a bigger world from the pristine popular illusion described above. It’s a world where people stumble, fall, fail, pick themselves up, and try again.

Another thing you will learn is how to spot wanna be leaders who never grew beyond the popular girl cafeteria table and spend their lives trying to recreate that world. That’s the world that Skeeter Phelan alienates in the movie The Help, when she reaches beyond the white world of segregation into a more diverse one that reflects compassion and understanding for those who are different from her.

Once she stepped outside those strictly set rules, she discovered her true talent and also found a niche where she could use it. She developed her voice and went to a new place, where her talents were valued and she could blossom and grow.

So my advice to those who walk into the cafeteria and find yourselves shunned by the in crowd and queen bees. Don’t get sucked into their game. You were born for a bigger world than the cafeteria, and now’s your chance to start developing the skills to get there.